- He's hard to catch Curley actually doing the show. It's his hobby, he's not there much.
- He's inane, trivial, Republican, and meanspirited in a frathouse kind of way.
- What's new? Curley talks a lot about poo, pee, vomit and back zits
A listener alerted us to an evening last week when Curley devoted most of an hour (or what passes for an hour on commercial radio) to a recent bout of stomach flu, diarrhea and vomiting, culminating in a hernia and a diagnosis of a testicular birth defect. There was a Seahawks tickets giveaway concerning back zits.
Then more robust guy-talk about trough urinals with Moe, the schnook who drew the short straw to be his on-air pal that night. Ah, the pleasures of pissing on a block of ice or "workin' on a "Marlboro Red somebody left in there."
Moe, who must have been raised by chimpanzees, expanded the conversation: "Yeah, like when your Mom threw Cheerios in the toilet for something for you to aim at." That was something Curley (unlike the rest of us) could relate to, except he "...thought they were to be eaten."
Eating breakfast cereal out of a toilet bowl full of pee wasn't quite low enough for Curley & Moe; so unbelievably, the conversation degenerated.
Seems Curley got a touch of the flu from one of his kids, and started feeling sick on-air. At the behest, he says, of producer Sean DiTore, he ran from the studio and tried sticking his head "directly [into] the toilet [to] look around for bits and pieces left behind… from someone’s behind."
Bad strategy. Not surprisingly, this caused him to vomit, then erupt with diarrhea. He lovingly shared with listeners the spectacular optical of he, John Curley "going off like a faulty Chinese firework, front end and back end, tranny and rear end problems." (Though we feel uncomfortable interpreting Mr. Curley, the word 'tranny,' in this context, we believe, is short for transmission,' an automotive term, rather than the more interesting, 'transvestite').
Then he said something rather telling: "Since I’m hardly ever here, I can’t call in sick."
Curley texted Moe from the toilet stall: "You don't want to come in here." (This may show more than his technological acumen; it may have been an uncharacteristic flash of Curleyan humanity).
After all this talk about evacuation from every aperture except his ear holes, Curley took it to a level we didn't even believe was a level.
Sick as a dog, he left the show early via I-90. He was forced, he claims, to stop on the freeway, strip down almost nude, right there alongside the road, cars whizzing by, to empty his voluminous bowels one more time. This was, again, a large event. Keeping in the canine theme and speaking in his trademark poetics, it was "Like a big ol' golden retriever," he said.
He got home finally, without being arrested for indecent exposure or public shittery and then we got to hear about his neon Gatorade-induced vomiting (he didn't specify which flavor, but we saw yellow in the theater of our mind) - the violence of which, caused a hernia bulge above his naval.
Curley then wisely went to his doctor, who not only tucked in his guts, but also diagnosed a birth defect which apparently happened in his mother's "beautiful womb."(describing his mother's womb was disturbing in a new way).
What was the defect? Specificity about it had to be dragged out of him by the dull, but intrepid Moe, but drag it out of him he did. Seems that if one his testicles (left or right? he didn't say) ever wanted to withdraw back up into his body, (as they are so often wont to do) there would be no convenient place for it to go in John Curley's body. He now describes himself as 'disabled' and says he's applying for a parking tag.
What a night! And this man is an elected official.
He got at least one complaint about it... next night he explained that if you were offended, you just didn't get the John Curley Show. The first 2 hours of his show, he said, was devoted to serious topics of the day, but that the last hour was comic relief time. Kinda kick back for the crew after a wrestle with reality.
We checked, and actually, the earlier hours are full of stories like about the gun instructor who shot himself in the penis; a dog who came home with a human hand; a human who came home with his leg reattached backwards and is now playing basketball; Colton Harris-Moore's film deal.
A substantive topic to John Curley, apparently, is one that doesn't involve graphic TMI about his own toilet problems.
Monday, he played 2 or 3 cuts of President Obama and inserted a few snarky remarks in between. Then he got tired of all that, and in the mid-sentence of what passes for analysis, he said, "Nah, I’m not gonna get into that… it’s just too long… gimme a happy story! ... oh yeah here's a happy story: Charlie Sheen is dead!"
John Curley makes some of the worst radio we've ever heard. Besides the disgusting and puerile content, it's clumsy, and he's ill-prepared. Clearly he doesn't take the job seriously. It's a lark for him.
He talks constant small ball about the teevee business. Even when he's in the chair, it's plain to see, his heart is elsewhere.
As for his mind, we agree with media critic Edgar "Choch" Mañana who's noted that, though John Curley has a skinny behind in real life, his intellect has a 'big fat, ass'.